


Cut Loose

by britspierce



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bobby as Uncle Wess, Castiel as Ariel, Chuck as Willard, Dean as Ren, F/M, Footloose - Freeform, Footloose AU, Homophobic Language, M/M, Meg as Chuck, Modern, Modern Footloose, marijuana mention, slight domestic abuse, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britspierce/pseuds/britspierce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2015, and seventeen year old Dean Winchester has been living in Chicago for a few years. He thought that his family might've finally settled down in one place. But as usual, they move. This time, Dean finds himself in Bomont, a small town where dancing is banned. There, he meets the preacher's son, Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Bomont

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this is Footloose the musical but set in 2015, with the cast of Supernatural. A lot of the lines in here are straight from the script/songs. Those lines belong to Dean Pitchford and Kenny Loggins, I don't claim to own any of them.  
> Let me know if there are any spelling errors or missing words. I've been over it a few times, but you never know. :)

Dean Winchester grumbled with his head resting against the inside of his car door. The Impala's familiar rumble would usually be comforting, but this time it was just plain concussing. Dean had his arms folded against his chest, and every fifteen minutes or so he would heave a great big, whiny sigh.

"You wanna say somethin', boy?" His dad eventually asked, obviously becoming fed up with the sighs. His eyes never left the road, and his hands remained completely still on the wheel.

"I can think of a few things." Dean grumbled, mostly to himself.

"What was that?" John Winchester asked, his knuckles becoming white on the wheel.

"I didn't say anything." Dean huffed, sitting up straight. His head was pounding, and he was sure he would have a bruise on the side of his skull. John's expression softened slightly and his knuckles relaxed. "Listen, this'll be the last move, I promise." He said.

"Didn't you say that like, the last four moves?" Whined a voice from the backseat. It was Dean's younger brother, Sam. Though he was only thirteen, he was extremely smart and very opinionated, not to mention almost taller than seventeen year old Dean.

"Not the time, Sam. I get you're upset. Hell, I am too. But this time I've got a stable job and a stable house for you two, thanks to Uncle Bobby. It won't be so bad this time." Sam could he heard huffing and toying with the belt. "Yeah yeah." Dean reclined back in his seat, eyes closed. Just a few hours ago he had told his friends in Chicago he was moving. " _Bomont? Where the hell is Bomont_?!" They'd questioned all at once. Now he was on the road, it was really happening. He was leaving the wild and free atmosphere of Chicago for some hick town that no one's ever heard of. At first, he had tried to stay positive - for Sammy. But when it became abundantly clear that Sam was not going to cheer up, Dean had joined him in his moping. The two brothers had been moved around all their life, so this shouldn't be much different. But somehow, it was. For once in his life, Dean just wanted stability. No more shitty apartments, no more forging his dad's signature on a check because he was too drunk to pay rent. He wanted to be settled in one place for more than a year. At one point, he'd had that luxury. That was before his mother died in a house fire when he was four. Sammy was barely six months old - he wouldn't remember having a stable home. Just moving and moving and moving. More than anything, Dean felt for Sam. It wasn't fair to the kid. He worked hard in school despite the constant changes. He wanted to go to Stanford and become a lawyer - his heart was set on it. Dean supported him all the way, but their dad? Not so much.

Dean felt hands on his shoulders, nudging him gently at first but getting rougher.

"Let's go! We're here, Dean. Dean.. Deaaaan... DEAN!"

"Alright alright, Sammy. Relax, I'm getting up. Bitch." Dean mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"Jerk." Sam replied with a smirk before grabbing his luggage and jogging up the steps of Uncle Bobby's porch. Dean yawned and stretched his arms, crawling into the backseat to grab his backpack. He didn't have much stuff, so it just took a backpack and a small duffle bag. Sam, on the other hand, had a few medium sized suitcases to lug his ever-growing book collection. Nerd.

 

"I'm not the prayin' type, but I usually go to church on Sundays. I know you boys've never really done anything like that, but you're welcome to join me. It brings the town together, ya don't even have to be religious." Bobby said to Dean and Sam as he took off his worn baseball cap and straightened his hair. "What about you, John?"

"I'm gonna stay here and unpack, thanks." John replied roughly. He hadn't involved himself in religion much since Mary, their mother, died. Mary always used to tell Dean and Sam that angels were watching over them. So much for that.

"C'mon, Dean! Pretty please?" Sam begged, following Dean with over dramatic puppy dog eyes as they walked into the kitchen.

"Since when did you turn bible thumper.." Dean muttered as he tossed an apple his way. Sam caught it and took a bite, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not. I just wanna see the townspeople. That's all." Dean slammed the fridge door shut, harder than he meant to, and sighed while pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Fine."

 

As Dean, Sam, and Bobby stepped into the church, Dean realized it may not have been appropriate to wear an ACDC t-shirt and grease stained jeans. Well, there was no going back now. The three took a seat on a pew as a man strode towards a mahogany podium.

"That's Reverend Novak." Bobby whispered. "To the left is his wife, Eve, and next to her is their son, Castiel. He's about your age, Dean." Dean nodded, his eyes glued to Castiel. He was wearing a navy blue sweater vest over a collared white button up. He had his hands clasped neatly in front of him, and he seemed like the typical goody-two-shoes brainiac. Dean scoffed half heartedly. Normally, he'd hate Castiel's type. He might even push them around a bit, give 'em a hard time just to get a laugh. But for some reason, he didn't hate Castiel. In fact, he was drawn to the mysterious boy with the dark black hair that stuck up in all directions. The way he kept his hands clasped, the way his tongue gently brushed his lips from time to time, the way he would discreetly rock on his heels during his father's particularly long lectures... it was all so intriguing. Dean mentally kicked himself. _Dude, cool the chick flick attitude._

“I took the long way to church this morning, down past the old creek. I heard birds chirping and our own choir warming up in the distance. I was reminded of a line from our great poet, Walt Whitman, who wrote, “I Hear America Singing”. And I thought, ‘Aren’t we all the song that we sing? Don’t we lift our voices to tell the world who we are? And what we believe?’ So I ask you this morning - what song are you singing?”

Dean actually contemplated this. _"We’ve barely been here a day and already, Chicago seems a million miles away. But we were barely hanging on there, ‘specially with my mother gone - there’s not too many places I could stay. But here we’ve got a job that’s steady, and maybe I can stand it for a year. And maybe things won’t be so bad, and maybe I won’t fight with dad, and maybe we could start a new life here.”_ These thoughts raced through his already aching head, making him feel slightly sick to the stomach.

“But if Walt Whitman were alive today, what would he hear America singing? When I turn on television, all I hear is the music of easy sexuality and relaxed morals. I hear rock and roll and the endless chant of pornography. And I ask myself, ‘Why does our Lord allow this?’ We know God has the power to turn all those records and books and videos into one big fiery cinder like..” The reverend paused to clap his hands together loudly. “..that! But He doesn’t? And why? Because God is testing us. He’s watching to see whether we’ll choose his path. And that is why, every day, we must ask ourselves: ‘Have I done the right thing?’” The Reverend gave everyone a moment to think, then continued on."This morning we welcome to our parish three new souls just arrived from Chicago. John Winchester, and his two sons, Sam and Dean." Reverend Novak met Dean's eyes with a warm smile as he and Sam stood up. The Reverend's brows then creased, looking for their father. Sam, of course, piped up immediately. "Our dad doesn't feel well."

"Ah. Well, give him our best wishes." The Reverend left his podium and strode to the middle of the floor, beckoning Sam and Dean to join him. "Don't be shy! Introduce yourselves."

"I'm Sam!" Sam replied, a little too enthusiastically for Dean's taste. Dean just muttered "Dean" while looking at the ground.

"What was that? Speak up! Let the Lord hear your voice!"

"Dean!" Snapped Dean, sounding a little annoyed. Reverend Novak nodded politely, obviously picking up on Dean's tone. "Lovely name."

"Yup." Dean answered cheekily. Sam smiled at everyone and then made his way back to Bobby, Dean following. He felt eyes on him, and he turned his head to see Castiel's gaze fixed on Dean. They made eye contact for a split second before Castiel flicked his gaze to the floor, his cheeks tinting pink. Dean swallowed and sat next to Bobby. His stomach had butterflies, which - for Dean - was _not_ normal.

"Now I invite you to join my wife Eve and our son Castiel in this morning’s convocation." Reverend Novak announced as everyone stood up. Dean stayed seated for a moment before deciding to follow suit and stand. He rolled his eyes as everyone began singing, even Bobby. Even little Sammy was trying his best to catch on and join in. _Note to self: never agree to this again._ But somehow, despite his thoughts, he knew he would be back next Sunday. Something about that boy Castiel.

 

 

Church had let out some time ago, and Dean was in his box cluttered room, blasting Asia and ACDC, throwing himself his own "Welcome to Bomont" dance party. He almost couldn't help himself - he heard a beat and he had to _move_. He was an exceptional dancer, sporting moves that he'd picked up from various parties and clubs in Chicago. Dean wasn't gonna lie to himself, he adored dancing. Not in a nerdy way, a cool way. He always had to clarify that. While he was in an extremely intense session of air guitar, Bobby opened the door and scowled. "What the hell are you doin', boy?!" He asked. Dean gave him a confused smirk. "Uh, dancin'?"

"Dancin' ain't allowed!" Bobby retorted. Dean chuckled and put his hands up in mock defensiveness. "Alright, I catch your drift. I'll cool it." What had gotten into Bobby? He was usually a light hearted guy, a true "mother hen". Dean just shrugged and brushed it off as Bobby closed the door and he went to turn off his radio. He flopped onto his poorly made bed and took it his phone. No signal, of course. And Bobby obviously didn't have wifi. It took ten minutes for the Facebook search page to load, and another ten minutes to show the results for "Castiel Novak". No results. Of course that kid was the only Casfiel Novak (seriously, what kind of name?!) and of _course_ he didn't have Facebook. He wouldn't be the preacher's perfect son if he did. Dean tossed his phone to the side and groaned, rolling over so his face was buried in his Batman pillow. He had his first day of school tomorrow, surely he'd see Castiel then. Dean chuckled to himself as he thought more about Castiel, trying to fabricate an idea of what his personality would be like. He would be nerdy, most likely. Dean shook his head. Nerdy seemed kind of.. harsh. He went with "smart", feeling that it was a more appropriate, kinder adjective.

 

 

 

Monday morning came around quicker than the Winchesters would've liked. A hole cut through Dean's gut as he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala. "Hey, baby." Her murmured as he turned the key, igniting her noisy engine. "It's good to hear ya purr again. I missed drivin' you."

"Dude. You have _got_ to stop talking to your car. It's seriously starting to creep me out." Sam said as he dumped his bag onto the floor. "You act like its _your_ car."

"It _is_ my car!" Dean spat defensively. He really loved his car. "Just shut up, bitch." Sam chuckled and brushed his mop of brown hair from his eyes. "Whatever, jerk."

Dean rolled up to the middle school and roughly slapped Sam on the back. "Good luck, Sammy." He said, giving him a small salute. Sam just smiled and closed the door. By the hunch of his shoulders, Dean could tell that his brother was just as nervous as he was. But Dean wasn't just nervous. He was _excited_. Excited to see Castiel. "Why the hell am I so fixed on this kid?" Dean muttered to himself as he spun the wheel of his baby and made his way to the high school.

 

Dean was standing by his new locker, sorting through his books and staring deadpan at his schedule. Kids passed him, and some whispered. A few even stopped to take a look.

"That's him. Dean Worcester."

"No, dummy, it's _Winchester._ "

"Did you hear he wore an ACDC shirt to church?"

"Oh yeah. I also heard he gave Reverend Novak an attitude."

"Well, you know how a stranger is. If he's not dumb, he's dangerous."

Dean just sighed to himself and slammed his locker door shut. He had just decided to leave all his books in his locker and take mental notes on which ones he needed for the next day. It was his first day, they wouldn't be that hard on him. Right? As Dean turned to walk to class, he bumped into someone’s shoulder.

“Hey, man, you bumped me!” The guy said, rubbing a hand over his shoulder even though it shouldn’t have hurt that much. He was wearing an ugly, tan cowboy hat on his head.

“Sorry.” Dean replied, not really caring.

“Do you ever look where you’re going?”

“I said I was sorry.” Dean huffed.

“Hey, you’re that new guy from Chicago, aren’tcha? Dean snorted. “Perhaps.”

“Oh, a smart-ass, huh? Listen, around here, you push somebody… they push back. Next thing you know you got..” The cowboy-hat-guy paused and looked down like he was confused. “Uh. Two people pushing. Get it?”

“Got it..” Dean said with one eyebrow raised. “Let me ask you something. Do they sell men’s clothes where you got that hat?” The boy looked even more confused. Cautiously, he asked, “What is that, some kind of stupid joke?”

“No, that was actually a really good joke.” Dean replied with a chuckle.

“That’s it, man, I’m gonna kill you!” The look in the boy’s eyes seemed pretty serious, but his wavering voice and small, lanky figure told Dean he shouldn’t be too worried. Dean was the opposite of worried, actually. He still had that jackass smile on his face. “Oh, please! Kill me!”

“Huh?” The boy pulled away from Dean, looking startled.

“Kill me! That’s the most exciting thing I’ve heard since I hit town!” Dean explained, then stuck out his hand. “Dean Winchester. And you are..?”

“Chuck. Chuck Shurley.” Chuck took Dean’s hand it shook it warily.

“Alright, Chuck. What do you guys do for a good time around here? Got any clubs?”

“Nope.”

“Movies?”

“Nope.”

“Malls?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. What about -” Dean was interrupted by Chuck. “Nope, nope, and nope. Well, we do have a Bowl-A-Rama down by the interstate.”

“Wow. I really admire you. I could never do what you guys do around here.” Dean said.

“Yeah? What do we do?” Chuck questioned.

“Nothing!” Dean burst out. He started to tap his feet to a silent rhythm. “I never walk when I can run - don’t believe I ever could! People try to slow me down, saying ‘Boy, you really should kick back and chill’. But I just can’t stand still!”

“I can see that.” Chuck said. “Around here, we walk.”

“Back where I’m from, life was never humdrum! I wish I could take you there. We had the world at our feet - it was sweet!” Dean was now full on dancing, twisting and spinning on his feet, finally letting himself cut loose again.

“You’re gonna last five minutes in this town..” Chuck said, glancing around with nervous eyes.

“I can’t forget how it feels when you dance ‘til you drop!” Dean went on, ignoring the nervous Chuck in front of him.

“Young man! Young man, what do you think you’re doing!” Called a deep voice. Dean spun around on his heels. He was face to face with Mr. Henricksen, the principal. He’d never met him until now, but Bobby had warned him to stay out of trouble when it came to Henricksen. Dean cleared his throat. “I was telling Chuck about Chicago.”

“It sure has hell didn’t look like you were.” Henricksen replied, his arms folded across his chest.

“Oh, you mean my dancing? I was just showing Chuck some steps. Some things we used to do in the clubs.” Dean said, like it was no big deal. It wasn’t a big deal, right? It shouldn’t be. But this town never failed to surprise him.

“Don’t!” Chuck warned, looking back and forth between Dean and the principal. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t what? Dance?” He asked as he popped up on his heels a few times - just a small goofy move.

“Mr. Winchester!” The principal scolded, and Dean heard chuck mutter “oh, shit” under his breath. “There’s no dancing allowed here.” Dean laughed and put his hands up. “I get it. No fun allowed in school.”

“No. Not just in school. There’s no dancing of any kind, anywhere, at _anytime_ within the town limits of Bomont.” Henricksen sounded annoyed with Dean, like he felt he shouldn’t have to explain himself.

“Alright, alright. Joke’s on the new kid!” Dean laughed, then stopped as he noticed no one else was laughing. “Chuck?” He asked, turning to meet his eyes.

“It’s illegal.” Chuck mumbled, his eyes on the floor. “Dean’s really sorry, Mr. Henricksen. He just got here, and he’s ignorant of the local law.”

“I’ll see you both of you in my office after school.” Henricksen informed them before walking away, just as the bell rung. A short blonde girl ran towards them and grabbed Chuck’s arm. “Chuck! That was like, the longest sentence you’ve ever made outside your novel!” Chuck grinned and rubbed the back of his neck as a blush formed on his cheeks. A few other girls came over to join Chuck and the blonde. They both had dark brown, almost black, hair that fell down to their shoulders in curls. The first girl who spoke had a slightly round face, accompanied by dark eyebrows and even darker eyes. “It’s such a turn on, watching a guy fly in the face of authority, isn’t it, Ruby?” She said, never taking her eyes off Dean.

“Uh-huh.” The girl behind her - Ruby, Dean assumed - said.

“Was he serious?” Dean asked, still stunned that _dancing_ of all things could be banned.

“As a heart attack.” Ruby replied. “Dancing’s been banned for five years, ever since the accident.” Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly and settled against the lockers. “Accident?”

“You’re joking. You’ve never heard of the Potawney Bridge accident?” Ruby asked, sounding surprised, as if it was something _everyone_ should know about.

“If I knew, I probably wouldn’t have busted a move in the middle of the hallway.” Dean replied, suddenly understanding why Bobby had scolded him for dancing a few days earlier.

“Becky, you can take this.” Said the round faced girl, her eyes still locked on Dean.

“Okie-dokie, Meg!” Becky replied, speaking at the speed of sound. “So these four kids we all grew up around - Michael, Uriel, Samandriel, and Balthazar - were driving back home from this _huge_ dance party the next down over. It was rainy that night I guess, and they probably a little wild in the car. Anyways, they somehow lost control of the car. It crashed through the rail and fell _thirty five_ down into the Potawney River. No one lived.” Becky finished, catching her breath.

“Oh, god.” Dean breathed, his eyes wide.

“Yeah. And when the sheriff’s office released the autopsy report, they said that there was alcohol and marijuana in their blood. Everyone went nuts.”

“And that’s when good ol’ Reverend Novak got so righteous. He blamed anything and everything for the accident. Drugs, alcohol, rock and roll..” Meg said.

“And dancing..” Dean finished, feeling breathless even though he hadn’t moved an inch from the lockers.

“Exactly. He drilled it into the town council’s head that it was a sin, and passed a law just like -” Meg paused to snap her fingers. “-that.

“You’re telling me that a _Reverend_ has that much power?” Dean snorted. That seemed a little unfair.

“Reverend Novak is the power!” Becky exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.”

“He is the law.” Ruby added on with a slight _’there’s nothing you can do about it’_ shrug.

“How do you stand this? I thought living in a small town would be like one, big, happy family.” Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. All of the weird things he had expected from this town, a ban on dancing was _not_ one of them.

"Years of practice.” Ruby said. “And let me tell you about that ‘family’..”


	2. Somebody's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself getting into a lot of trouble around Bomont, and he's only been there a few weeks. Things can't get any worse for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, lyrics and direct lines belong to Dean Pitchford and Kenny Loggins.

Dean’s hands were gripping the Impala’s wheel tightly as he drove through the town. He didn’t have anywhere to be, he just needed to take a drive and clear his head. Everything Becky, Ruby, and Meg had told him earlier ran through his mind over and over again. Even the sweet, sweet sounds of “ _Eye of the Tiger_ ” couldn’t distract him.

_“Careful what you do,_

_Careful what you say,_

_‘Cause you’re on display, every night and everyday.”_ Ruby had told him.

_“Somebody’s eyes are watching. Somebody’s eyes are seeing you come and go.”_ Meg added.

_“You’ve got no disguise from somebody’s eyes!”_ Becky jumped in enthusiastically. Dean, at the time, had told them that their creepy rhymes weren’t going to get to him, and that it couldn’t be true. Chuck had said it gets to them all eventually, and Dean retorted with _“you don’t know me”._

“You don’t know Bomont.” Meg had responded with a coy smile before sauntering off, the two other girls following behind her. Chuck gave a sympathetic shrug before scurrying away.

Dean sat through the rest of the school day, seeing Castiel in the halls at times, but never building up the courage to initiate a conversation. Castiel seemed to be followed by Meg, who clung to him like fuzz to a lint sheet. He seemed rather uncomfortable with Meg’s advances, and Dean could understand why. Meg was intimidating, wearing only black and dark purple. Plus, Castiel was a good boy, and Meg was a rebellious bad girl from what Dean had gathered. For some reason, Dean felt a pang of jealousy in his heart as he watched Meg reach for Castiel’s hand. He was relieved, though, when he saw Castiel pull away.

 

Dean found himself thinking not only about what he had been told, but Castiel as well. He eased up on the gas and came to a stop as he came to a worn, rusted sign that said “S OP”. He laughed quietly to himself as he pushed down on the pedal and continued.

A few classic rock songs later, he heard sirens. Dean looked around and sighed when he saw he was the only one on the road. Great, this was just what he needed. His first day at school had been rough enough, and now he was gonna get in police trouble. What did he do anyways? His lights were fine, and he had stopped at the sign. He sighed and rolled down his window, giving the office a fake smile. “Hey, Officer..” His eyes glanced down to her nametag. _Jody Mills_ , it read. “..Mills!” Jody seemed unimpressed. “You’re gonna have to learn that in Bomont, a stop sign means ‘stop’.”

“I did.” Dean said flatly, his smile fading.

“And that music of yours was blasting pretty loud.” Dean smiled and laughed a fake laugh. “ _Oh_ , so you pulled me over because my music’s too loud!” He had given up on being polite, because it was clear that Officer Mills had no intention of being polite.

“Watch that attitude, boy!” She scolded as a voice sounded behind her.

“Book ‘im, Jody!” The voice was nasally and feminine, and Dean recognized it instantly.

“Is he a friend of yours, Meg?” Jody asked, turning her back to Dean for a moment. Meg snorted and giggled. “That city kid? I wouldn’t let him kiss my ass!” She continued to laugh as she resumed her walk and strode away.

“What a nice girl.” Dean commented sarcastically, sighing as Mills slapped a ticket into his hand.

  
  


A few days later, Dean found himself being dragged into the principal’s office by Coach Gordon, along with two _hellish_ boys named Alastair and Azazel.

“Victor!” Gordon roared. “This boy turned my wrestling practice into a _brawl!_ ” He pointed his finger right at Dean’s face.

“Yeah!” Said Alastair, followed by a “yeah!” from Azazel.

“Oh, so I guess my nose just magically slammed into your fist!” Dean protested.

“That’s bull!”

“You started it!”

“It was you!”

“Hey!”

“That’s enough!” Gordon shouted, then turned to Dean with a fire in his dark brown eyes. “My boys know the difference between a wrestling match and a street fight.” Dean narrowed his eyes and spat, “Really? ‘Cause usually a wrestling match is one-on-one.”

“That’s enough!” Principal Henricksen snapped. “Dean Winchester, this is the _third_ time you’ve been dragged into my office. I’m suspending you from the wrestling team.” Dean didn’t even have the energy to respond and defend himself. He was just _done_. He was done with Bomont, done with being watched all the time. He was dismissed from Victor’s office and told to go wait for his next class to begin.

As he wandered the halls, he came across Castiel, who was fishing notes from his stuffed locker. Feeling eyes on him, Castiel turned, and worry clouded his eyes as he dropped his notes and rushed towards Dean, whose nose was turning purple.

“Dean! Are you alright?” Castiel asked, looking him up and down with those wide, blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. How do you know my name?” He asked. Castiel just chuckled, though Dean saw a tint of pink beginning to form on his cheeks. “It’s not like you’re nobody around here. Come with me.” Cas’ hand wrapped gently around Dean’s wrist as he led him to the (thankfully) empty bathroom.

Dean leaned into Castiel’s touch, closing his eyes as Cas dabbed a wet paper towel over his nose. After he was done, they booth stood there in silence, studying each other.

“You really should get back to class. I’m sure you dad wouldn’t be happy if he found out you were skipping half the period.” Dean finally said. Castiel simply shrugged. “I’ll tell the teacher I got sick.” Dean was taken aback. “You’re the preacher’s son. Isn’t lying like, a sin?”

“Perhaps.” Castiel replied. “But it’s for a good reason. My brother always told me that.” Dean’s eyebrows crinkled. If Castiel had a brother, wouldn’t he have been at church with the rest of the family? “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Two, actually.” Castiel replied, then his smile began to fade. “Well, no.. One. Just one.” He mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I had two brothers. I have one now.” Castiel took a deep breath. “One is named Gabriel. He’s only two years older than me, but he moved out a long time ago. Family arguments.” He paused. “And my other brother, the oldest, his name was..” Castiel’s voice was caught in his throat for a moment. “His name was Michael. He died in the Potawney Bridge Accident.”

“Damn.. I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean replied, and Cas looked up, blinking those incredibly blue eyes at the nickname. “It’s alright. Um.. no one’s ever called me Cas.”

“Sorry.” Dean said quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine. I like it.” Castiel replied, even quicker than Dean had.

“So I guess that’s why your dad got all worked up about the accident. Not that anyone wouldn’t, it’s just he seemed to take it harder than everyone else.” Dean said. Castiel nodded. “Yes, he was very close with Michael, as one is with their firstborn. Michael also had a promising future. He got accepted into Harvard on a full ride. He was always so smart, so obedient. My father appreciated that. Gabriel, on the other hand..” Castiel chuckled. “Well, he’s a prankster. He was a little less than average in school, since he spent most of his time in the office for petty pranks or eating in class. He has quite the sweet tooth. You’ll never catch him without a lollipop. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I like listening to you.” Dean said, and his heart fell as the bell rung above them.

“I should get going.” Castiel said, making his way towards the door. Dean grabbed his arm before he could leave. “Wait! Can I see you again?”

“I’d like that. Why don’t you stop by the Burger Blast tonight. Seven.”

“I’ll be there.” Dean said, releasing Castiel with a smile.

  
  


Hours later, school was out and Dean was back at work. He was grateful that his uncle had gotten him a job, even if it was a little boring. It wasn’t like the hardware store was buzzing with customers. Dean usually found himself with his head in his hands, elbows on the counter, daydreaming about Castiel. Today, he was thinking about their date. No no - meetup. It was just a meetup, a simple hangout. Castiel didn’t even like Dean the way Dean liked him, he was sure of that.

The bell on the door rung and woke Dean from his daydream. “Oh, hey, Chuck.” Dean greeted, relaxing a bit as a stretched his arms.

“Heya, Dean. Mind tossing me some change? For a dollar, please.” Chuck held out a dollar and took it, pressing it neatly into the register. He began to dig through the coin pile for four quarters, when he heard a shrill voice behind him.

“Are you stealing, boy?!” His boss called, storming towards Dean and ripping his hand out of the register.

“What the hell?! No! Chuck asked for change!” Dean yelled, glancing over at Chuck. Chuck was clearly nervous, but he stood up for Dean anyways. “I-it’s true.. I just needed four quarters.”

“See!” Dean said.

“Like I’m going to believe anything that comes out of your trouble making mouth. You’re fired!” His boss slammed the register shut and gave Chuck a glare that screamed _”leave”_. Chuck gulped and ran out of the store, leaving behind the dollar he had lost. Dean just stood there, slack jawed. He had just been  <i>fired</i>. Not wanting to hear anymore yelling, Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and walked out of the store, huffing and sighing as he did so.

 

He came home to Bobby and Sam sitting at the kitchen table, a deck of cards laid out before them. It looked like a game of go-fish.

“You’re home early.” Bobby commented as he looked up from his spread of cards.

“I got fired.” Mumbled Dean, avoiding eye contact.

“You _what!?_ ” Bobby stood up quickly, setting his cards face down on the table so Sam couldn’t peek. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get you that job? And not even a month later, you’re fired! It’s more bad news with you everyday.”

“I think that’s a little harsh, Uncle Bobby.” Sam chimed in matter of factly, his eyes still glued to his handful of cards.

“Hush it, Sam.” Bobby said. Sam just shrugged and looked to Dean. “What happened?”

“Nothing I should be fired for! Chuck wanted change for a dollar, and when Mr. Zachariah saw my hand in the register and thought I was stealing! He went crazy and fired me.” Dean replied, running his fingers through his hair. _Nothing_ in Bomont was going his way.

“People are just suspicious of you. You know, with the whole dancing thing you pulled on the first day. I’m sure everyone will get over it eventually.” Sam said, trying to make his brother feel at least a little better.

“Are you on drugs?” Bobby asked, out of the blue.

“No! But why don’t you go on and frisk me if you’re so convinced?”

“Dean..” Sam warned from the table. Bobby sighed and sat down. “Listen, I know I’m not your father but..”

“Damn right you’re not!” Dean shouted, and Bobby slammed his hands down onto the table. “Go to your room, boy!” He shouted, and Sam visibly winced. As Dean stomped upstairs, Sam slid out of his chair and put down his cards. “I’m gonna go do my homework.” He mumbled as he shuffled his way to the stairs. Bobby just grumbled and began to sweep up the cards.


	3. You Take After Your Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick glimpse into Castiel's home life with Reverend Novak and Eve.

Castiel quietly opened his door and set his backpack on the ground next to the coatrack. He made his way into the kitchen, plastering on a fake smile as he did most nights. “Hello, Father. Mother.” He greeted his parents. “Is this Haydn? The Second Sonata?” He asked as he tuned into the music. He had always enjoyed the music his father played, but at the same time he always hoped for a taste of something new.

“The fourth.” His father replied.

“Right. I guess this kind of music is okay, huh, Father?” Castiel questioned, regretting the words the  _ instant _ they left his mouth. His father had never had a good sense of humor, and whatever sense he had was completely gone after the accident. His father looked up from his paper’s on the table, eyeing Castiel with a look that made his stomach turn. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just making a joke.” Eve butted in.

“I’m aware of that, Eve.” Cas’ father said in an annoyed tone before turning back to Castiel. “This ‘kind’ of music is uplifting, and doesn’t confuse the mind like the kind of music your peers take a liking to. Like the kind of music  _ Gabriel _ takes a liking to.” Castiel sighed. His father always used Gabriel as an example of a bad person or bad habit. He didn’t like it. Gabe was his brother, after all. The one who had been there for him. “Did I say something wrong?” Castiel finally asked.

“Your father’s just had a difficult day.” Eve said.

“I can speak for myself, Eve.” Eve just gave a small sigh and then put on a fake smile, just like Castiel always did. “Castiel, why don’t you set the table for dinner?”

“I’m not feeling very hungry.”

“Honey, if you’re angry with Castiel, at least tell him why. You two speak and nothing gets said.” Eve said.

“Have you seen him with that Meg Masters girl? I haven’t, but I’ve heard rumors. That girl has a record of arrests, Castiel, and I do  _ not _ want you seeing her.”

“Dad!” Castiel shouted. He never called his father “dad” unless they were fighting. “I’m not seeing her! I’m not seeing anyone! You know what? I’m going out. Burger Blast, if you’re wondering. And no, Meg won’t be there. I’m not fond of her.” With that, Castiel left his parents in the kitchen to sort things out. He walked quickly to the Burger Blast, excited about his date - no, meetup - with Dean. Cas pulled his phone out of the pockets of his slacks to check the time. 6:30. He’d be there by 6:45. 

Castiel absentmindedly kicked rocks with his shoes, not caring if he scuffed them. Despite his excitement, his conversation with his parents had put him in a somewhat grumpy mood. His father never listened to him. He knew he wished that Castiel was like Michael, or even better - that Castiel  _ was _ Michael. And the way his father constantly accused him of seeing Meg Masters, as if Castiel wasn’t same sex orientated. Well, his father didn’t know. He never would, either. It was a sin, and Castiel would most likely be thrown out of his house if he ever told.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the salty sting of tears. He would  _ not _ cry. He tried to focus on Dean. On his green eyes, his plush lips, his muscular arms. Castiel was truly head over heels, and he barely knew the guy.


	4. Holding Out For a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel are at the Burger Blast for their date - sorry, meetup - but are interrupted by Meg.

Dean had been at the Burger Blast since 6:15, and had gotten to know one of the waiters, Benny, who was on roller skates. Benny was a tall guy with a sturdy build and light brown hair. Stubble ran from the top of his lips to the bottom of his chin, and he spoke in a low Southern drawl, calling Dean “brother” despite them just meeting. Dean learned that Benny was supporting himself, so that’s why he wasn’t seen around school all that much. 

At 6:45, Castiel pushed open the doors of the Burger Blast and greeted the owner, Betty Blast, with a smile. He was clearly a regular. His eyes wandered around the joint and landed on Dean, who had already spotted him. He smiled and walked over, taking a seat across from Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean replied with a nervous smile, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. There was an awkward silence for a moment before Cas noted that Dean’s bruise looked better. Dean nodded and thanked him again for his help.

“It was my pleasure, Dean.” Castiel said with a soft smile.

“Is this a date?” Dean suddenly blurted out, covering his mouth with his hand as soon as he said it. He didn’t mean to. Castiel’s face flushed and his blue eyes flicked to his hands. “I mean. If you would like it to be, then it is.”

“I’d like that, Cas.” Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I’d like that too.” Dean moved his hand under the table, trying to find Cas’ hand. Instead, he brushed his knee, and Cas jumped in his seat.

“Sorry!” Dean exclaimed. “I was uh, I was just reaching for your hand.” Castiel smiled and laughed. It was a beautiful laugh. “You could’ve just asked me, Dean.” Cas said and reached his hand over to grab Dean’s, which was now resting on the table. 

“Get it, city boy!” He heard Ruby’s voice shout. Chuck, Becky, and Ruby had just walked through the door.  _ Great _ , Dean thought. He just wanted to have a nice night out with Castiel. Sure, he was buddies with Chuck, but Becky and Ruby just grinded his nerves. At least Meg wasn’t there - oh. Speak of the devil. None other than Meg Masters had just walked in, pushed her way past Ruby, and was making her way to Castiel. Castiel visibly tensed, as if he could sense that Meg was there.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Meg asked in her nasally voice. Dean hated that voice. “What happened to our date, Castiel?”

“I never agreed to anything. In fact, I recall telling you that I wasn’t interested. As per usual.” Castiel spoke, his voice flat and his eyes fixed on the table.

“You made a fool out of me, you know. I don’t like it.” Meg began.

“Why would you? You do such a good job of it all on your own.” Dean interrupted aggressively. Meg shot him a glare, but continued to talk to Castiel. “I told Alastair and Azazel you were coming. You blew me off, Cassie.”

“Don’t call me that.” Castiel said, his voice unwavering.

“I do what I want. Let’s blow this joint. Come with me, we’ll have a lot of fun.” Meg made her voice sound as sweet as possible, but it was clear she was annoyed.

“No.”

“Aww. When the preacher’s son says ‘no’ it gets me all hot and bothered. Say it again, Cassie.” Meg snaked her arm around Cas’ neck and he winced. Dean sighed and stood up. “Alright, that’s enough. I think you should go.” He said firmly.

“And who’s gonna make me?” Meg sneered. At that moment, Betty Blast rolled up behind Meg. She was too old to be skating, but every day she laced up and went to work. Her effort was admirable. “Masters! Your jeep is in the handicap parking. That’s reserved for people with physical, not  _ emotional _ , disabilities. Move it before I call the tow truck.” Meg huffed and stormed out, her hair blowing dramatically behind her. Betty’s expression softened as she turned to face the relieved Castiel. “Castiel, I’m sorry she’s such a pain. Burger’s are on the house, dear.” She patted Cas’ shoulder and skated off to tell Benny.

“Looks like you’re a favorite of hers.” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood as he laced Castiel’s fingers with his own. Castiel looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Dean. For what you did. Meg doesn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no’.”

“I barely did anything. I’d be thanking Betty if I were you.” Castiel laughed at that, then tilted his head. God, that was adorable. “This is one of my favorite songs.” He stated, humming the instrumental. As the lyrics started up, Castiel began to sing quietly.

_ “Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?” _

Dean smiled and listened to Cas sing with puppy dog eyes. His voice wasn’t half bad. After the first few voices, Dean joined in.

_ “Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and turn, and dream of what I need.” _

Too soon, the song was over, but Cas and Dean were still in the moment. They were laughing, Cas claiming that Dean was too “silly” when he sang, and it made him mess up. Dean just told him he was jealous of his skills.

“Here ya go, brothers.” A voice interrupted. It was Benny. He was balancing two trays in his hands, a burger and fries on each. Cas gave him a polite smile and nodded his thanks, prodding at the burger with a fork.

“Dude..” Dean said, staring at Cas. “You don’t eat burgers with forks.” Cas looked up and tilted his head, his eyes squinting. Dean noticed he did that when he was confused, and it was adorable as hell.

“This is the way I’ve always done it.” Castiel replied, his head still cocked.

“Just try holding it, like this.” Dean demonstrated with his own burger. He took a bite, then raised his eyebrows at Castiel. “See?” He said, still chewing his burger. Castiel scrunched up his nose - his adorable nose - but picked up the burger anyways. He took a bite, and made a borderline pornographic sound that caught Dean off guard. Dean choked, then grabbed a napkin and coughed into it. That was  _ hot _ .

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked, his head once again tilted to the side. Dean nodded and crumpled the napkin in his fist. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a tickle in my throat.” Cas nodded.

It didn’t take long for both of them to finish their burgers. Neither of them had realized how hungry they were until their mouths had met with the warm burger. Dean gathered all the napkins onto one plate as Cas fished a twenty dollar bill from his pocket to give as a tip to Benny. Dean pitched in the ten dollars he had brought. It was a generous tip that Benny deserved.

“Dean, can I show you something? A place.” Cas asked as he adjusted his sweater.

“Don’t you have a curfew?” Dean asked jokingly.

“Please. My father invented them. But there are some rules that are meant to be broken.” Castiel remembered Gabe telling him that, many, many years ago, back when they were both young and Michael was still alive. Back when his father was loving and not cold and distant.

“Alright, then. Let’s go.” Dean grabbed his leather jacket and shrugged it on, following Castiel out of the booth and out the door.


	5. Look At The Stars Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes Dean to his "special spot" and then back to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five chapters in one day? What can I say, Footloose is my favorite. Again, let me know if there are errors. I always proof-read, but I'm human and miss things.

Castiel never told Dean where they were going. He just kept insisting that Dean needed to wait. If there was one thing Dean wasn’t good at, it was waiting. And math, and staying out of trouble, and reading.. But that was besides the point.

Eventually, the pair ended up by an old wooden platform that must’ve been part of some ancient train station. It was overgrown with weeds and rotting on the edges, but it gave them a nice view of the train tracks and the plains and the moon. Castiel sat down on the wood and motioned for Dean to sit next to him. Dean sat close to Cas, so their shoulders were touching, and their hands met on the dirty wood. He was glad it was dark, because he was sure his face was bright red. He was turning into such a sap.

“I come here when I fight with my father. When I was younger, I barely ever came here. But lately, I’ve been finding myself visiting more often.” Cas eventually said, his eyes locked on the moon.

“I fight with my dad a lot, too. He wants me to be a mechanic. But I don’t want to. I don’t even know what I want to do, to be honest.” Dean replied.

“My father wants me to be a teacher.” Dean glanced over at Cas, who’s eyes were still on the moon. “What do you wanna do, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I would like to go to college, for starters. I wanna speak five languages and see the world. I wanna help people, somehow. I’d like to leave the teaching to my father.”

“He’s a preacher, not a teacher.” Dean chuckled softly, and Castiel looked over at him with warm, knowing eyes. “When you’re good at it, it’s the same thing. My father used to be really good at it.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, but he already knew the answer. The Accident.

“His mind. He closed it. He was so open once. He was inspiring. I watched him change lives, Dean. I watched him give hope when there was no hope to be found. He was truly an amazing preacher. I always looked up to him.”

“I get how you feel. Before my mom died, my dad was a pretty great guy. He used to play baseball with me in the yard, take me fishing..” Cas laughed quietly. “My father used to do the same things with Michael.” He said, then sighed, looking at Dean and meeting his eyes again. “What happened?”

“Life, I guess.” Dean shrugged. “There’s not much we can do about it. C’mon, I’ll walk you home. It’s getting cold.” Dean held out his hand for Cas to grab. Even after Cas stood up, he didn’t let go. He liked the feeling of Castiel’s warm hands against his own. It felt right. Castiel was just a comforting presence in general, not to mention _extremely_ attractive. More than once, Dean had caught himself staring at his hip’s, or making googly eyes at his ass. Thankfully, Cas had never noticed.

  


Back at the Novak home, there were a group of people huddled around the kitchen table. Coach Gordon, Bobby, Principal Henricksen, Eve, and Reverend Novak were engulfed by cards.

“Alright, Victor. You owe Bobby… let’s see..”

“Seventy five cents. And, Reverend, you owe me a buck and a quarter.” Bobby finished for Gordon, chuckling. Reverend Novak gave a dramatic sigh. “Why is it that the only place my prayers seem to fail me is at the bridge table?” He asked, earning a round of laughter.

“Hello, everyone. You know Dean.” Castiel’s voice cut through the laughter. Everyone turned around to see Cas and Dean standing in front of the door.

“Welcome, Dean.” Eve said with a somewhat genuine smile.

“Woah! Poker night. Cool!” Dean exclaimed, shoving his hands nervously into his pockets. He had to let go of Castiel’s hands before the came inside.

“Castiel! All this time, we thought you were in your room.” Gordon said. Henricksen chimed in with “doing your homework”. Castiel’s head tipped down, his gaze on the floor.

“It’s hard to impose a curfew on my congregation when I can’t even seem to enforce one in my own home.” Reverend Novak said, his words sharp like knives.

“Well, uh. What’s that old saying? ‘It’s the shoemaker’s children who always go barefoot?’” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. However, no one laughed. Instead, Bobby looked at his watch. “Where does the time go? I should be heading home for Sam.” He announced, standing up and thanking the Reverend for having him. He then passed Dean, saying, “try to be home before midnight”. After Bobby, Gordon and Principal Henricksen left as well.

“I can sure clear a room..” Dean mumbled, feeling guilty.

“A rare talent.” Reverend Novak said, obviously not impressed with Dean’s actions.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” Dean said with a cheeky smile. The Reverend raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “I can assure you, it was not meant to be taken that way.” Dean, being.. well, being Dean, mimed being shot by an arrow. “Ouch!” He joked as he pulled out the invisible arrow and handed it to Reverend Novak. “I believe this is yours, Reverend.” The Reverend didn’t say anything, just gave Dean a look that shot daggers. Castiel was the one who broke the heavy silence. “Dean! Thank you for walking me home.” Dean just nodded as he turned to leave the kitchen. “This was fun.” He called back to the Reverend.

Dean left the tense atmosphere, and found Eve outside. “I kinda blew it in there, didn’t I?” He asked as he leaned against the side of the house. Eve gave him a sympathetic laugh. “Yes, you did.”

“I just got nervous. I always seem to put my foot in my mouth. And it doesn’t help that Chuckles hates me.”

“You know, Bobby told me you were good at the whole ‘foot in the mouth’ thing, but I had no idea.” Eve replied, getting a much needed laugh out of Dean.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Novak.” Dean said as he made his way towards Bobby’s house.

“Goodnight, Dean.” She called after him.

Dean never noticed Alastair and Azazel following him.

  
  


“I don’t want you hanging out with him again.” Reverend Novak told Castiel firmly. If it were anyone else, Cas would have agreed, not wanting to start a fight with his stubborn father. But this was _Dean_. Dean made Cas feel strong, independent, and safe, which was more than Castiel could say for his father. So this time, he was going to protest.

“Why? Because he hasn’t lived in town all his life? Because he’s an outsider?”

“No, that’s not the reason. He clearly has no respect for authority, and I’ve heard from several people that he’s a troublemaker.”

“I assume that by ‘everyone’, you mean the Bridge Club.” Castiel retorted coldly. It was unlike him to put up this much of a fight. “Give me a break.”

“Castiel!” The Reverend seemed shocked. He wasn’t used to Cas’ new attitude. “What am I going to do with you?” He sighed.

“Me? Father, lately all you do is look for the worst in people. And being you, you find it.”

“Castiel, where is this coming from? We didn’t raise you this way.”

“It’s coming from you! Your sermons have turned into drawn out speeches about how evil the world is!” Castiel’s voice was beginning to raise in volume. “The world is evil and Castiel needs to be locked away in his room!”

“That’s a little melodramatic.” Reverend Novak snorted.

“No, it’s not! For the longest time, I’ve been feeling like a prisoner!” Castiel yelled before stomping up to his room. Eve had seen the very end of the fight from the kitchen doorway, where she was leaning. Reverend Novak sighed. “Someone had to put a foot down.” Eve frowned and folded her arms. “I didn’t say anything, Shaw.” She replied before walking away.

“I don’t enjoy being his jailor, or telling him ‘no’. But what if I fail him? I can’t just let her go.” Shaw pulled a seat out from the table and sat down, talking to himself. “I strive to be a good preacher. I try not to go overboard. But if I can’t even reach my son, well then, how can I face my Lord?” He ran his hands over his face and sighed, tilting his head up to see the ceiling. “Heaven help me shoulder my load.” He grumbled. “Everyday’s a struggle, you know. But if I don’t take the high road, who will?” Reverend Novak stood up, pushing in his chair and making his way to his room. Luckily, it was empty. He stood in front of a tall mirror and stared at himself. “I became a man of God to spread his word. To help people. To ease pain, to dry tears. That was my plan. But I might’ve thought twice, if only I knew that I spend all of my time saying “ainh ainh ainh, no no! Don’t do that! I’m happy to provide the tools for salvation, but here, here’s my frustration. Nobody wants to have rules!” Shaw turned to face an old painting of baby Jesus and Mary on the wall. “How can you expect one man to save his family _and_ his neighbors? Oh, heaven help me.” He bit back a sob and crawled into bed.

  


Castiel was tucked into his own bed upstairs, clad in nothing but a pair of striped boxers. He held his phone in his hands, trying to think of what to text Dean. They had exchanged numbers at the Burger Blast earlier that night.

 

**To: Dean**

**Msg:** I apologize for my father. Like I had explained earlier, he is very close minded these days.

 

**To: Dean**

**Msg:** I enjoyed my time with you tonight, Dean. Your company is relaxing.

 

Cas set his phone down and waited for a text back. It was only a second before he heard a buzz.

 

  
**From: Dean**

 **Msg:** hey man dw abt it. i had fun 2. lets do it agn sometime

 

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s lazy typing. However, his laughter was quickly stifled when he got a notification, saying Meg had texted him.

 

**From: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** deans a cutie, you know. wouldnt want anything to happen to that pretty little face of his! ;D

 

**To: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** What is that supposed to mean?

 

**From: Meg Masters**

**Msg** : i think you know, cassie

 

He set his phone down, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. Of course Meg would want to hurt Dean. Why hadn’t he warned Dean when he knew that Meg would try to pull something? He reached for his phone again, deciding that a late warning was better than no warning.

 

**To: Dean**

**Msg:** Dean, please hurry home. I don’t wish to worry you, but I think Meg might be planning something. Be safe.

 

Cas anxiously waited for a reply, but none came. Five minutes had passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. He felt a knot twist into his stomach.

 

**To: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** What the hell did you do?

 

**From: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** youll find out soon enuff ;D

 

**To: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** I’ll kill you if you so much as left as a scratch on him.

 

**From: Meg Masters**

**Msg:** arent u the cutest? goodnight casafrass

 

Cas tried to get some sleep that night, but he just couldn’t. His mind was too focused on Dean and his safety. He felt a tear roll down his cheek.


End file.
